


Clash

by Neyiea



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: M/M, Nightmare Galleon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-01
Updated: 2013-04-01
Packaged: 2017-12-07 03:48:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/743855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neyiea/pseuds/Neyiea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pitch isn't a fan of physical fights, but sometimes Pitchiner leaves him with no other choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clash

**Author's Note:**

> In case you haven't stumbled upon the wondrous ask-pitch's-wardrobe blog click [here](http://ask-pitchs-wardrobe.tumblr.com/post/42018125668/thisisbeabe-naopao-thisisbeabe)

Pitch generally isn’t a fan of physical squabbles. He’s got razor sharp wit and a tongue with a finely honed edge, both of which are more than capable of tearing even the most daunting of foes to shreds. He likes to think of himself as the type of opponent that gets in your head and turns you against yourself and that doesn’t translate very well in a physical fight. Oh, he’ll roll up his cuffs if he has to, but only if he has no other choice.

Or if people outright _refuse_ to listen to him. 

Of all beings, Guardians included, Pitchiner is normally the last person in the known universe that he’d want to get in a squabble with, fist-fight wise, at least, because sometimes he actually kind of enjoys their verbal spars. Even when he shrinks himself down to a respectable size he somehow manages to tower over Pitch, and he is so much broader and sturdily built. Not to mention that he gets a little _too_ excited at the prospect of violence and bloodshed. Usually when Pitchiner tries to get a rise out of him Pitch throws all of his focus into ignoring the other, knowing that nothing good can possibly come of paying attention to him when he’s actually going out of his way to be annoying.

This time, though, he’s gone too far.

Pitch can’t even remember whatever off-handed comment he’d spouted that had made him see red, but he’s far too irate to care.

He snaps his book shut, slams it against the table, and demands that Pitchiner shrink down so that he can wrap both of his hands around that stupidly thick neck of his and _strangle him._

Pitchiner complies with a sharp smile. The last time Pitch had ordered such a thing he’d realized what a one sided fight it would still be and had backed off. He’s too angry for that sort of rational thought now.

It’s worth it, though, to get that first hit in before Pitchiner even sees it coming.

He aims the punch directly for his nose and though he’s not precisely on target there’s enough force behind his fist to make the other stumble back slightly.

Pitchiner blinks at him in surprise, a thin trail of blood sluggishly dripping from his nose, and then he grins like an absolute madman and rushes forward.

Pitch’s world flips on it’s axis.

He doesn’t let himself get pinned to the floor, he may not be as strong as the other but his slighter form makes it easier for him to slip away from grappling fists and arms like steel bands. He wrestles and scratches and bites while Pitchiner grabs and holds and laughs.

He’s already losing whatever slim advantage the element of surprise gave him when Pitchiner takes his head in both hands and smashes their foreheads together. 

He lies on the floor in a stunned daze while Pitchiner climbs atop him, gathers both of his wrist up in one giant hand and traps them against the floor above his head while his other hand skims along Pitch’s throat in an almost delicate manner before pressing down. Not enough to do any damage, just enough to imply a threat. 

“What was that you said about strangling me? My, how the tables have turned, dear.”

Pitch stares up at him blankly, knowing that if he lets himself react it will just give Pitchiner more reason to wear an insufferable smirk as he looms over him.

“What’s this, cat got your tongue?” Pitchiner asks cheerily, letting his nails idly scratch at Pitch’s neck as he leans in close, close enough that if Pitch wasn’t certain he’d do more damage to himself he would have head-butted him right back. “You’re so silent in your defeat.”

“Some people aren’t as fond as you are of listening to themselves talk,” he mutters and his captor chuckles deeply in reply.

“It’s so nice to see that spark in your eyes, I should pester you more often.”

“Your very existence is annoying enough, I assure you.”

“You have a lot of attitude for someone who’s trapped on their back,” Pitchiner leans in closer still, so that each breath they exhale intermingles, “I like that.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” Pitch flexes his fingers slightly and Pitchiner tightens his grip to just a fraction under bone-crushing while he moves his hand from Pitch’s throat to caress his cheek.

“Now now dear, no need to be cheeky. I haven’t had that much fun in a while, would you like a reward? A kiss, maybe?” He positively leers.

“If your mouth comes anywhere near me right now I’ll bite off your tongue,” he answers, dead serious.

Pitchiner throws his head back and laughs as he finally lets go of Pitch’s wrists.

“Later, then.”


End file.
